i don't mind when it's you
Back in Polis, there’s no Bellamy to hold his shoulders, so he stays still while Ryfe finishes his tattoo: a third line in the middle of the other two. They mimic kill marks found on anyone else.
Ryfe has a bad scrape across her forehead, and one eye is swollen shut. Murphy is viciously pleased about it. She doesn’t volunteer any information about it, and he doesn’t ask. After completing the tattoo, Ryfe leaves. Lexa hops down from the table she’s perched on top of, inspects his tattoo, and only then is he allowed to pull his shirt back on.
“There will be a celebration,” she tells him. “A feast. You are required to attend, at my side.”
“Yeah?” he asks. “You’re not afraid I’ll stab you?”
Lexa gives him part of a smile. It’s a little sad. “You won’t,” she says.
He won’t. Not really. Not after— Not after the City of Light.
“Dress nicely,” she says. “I’ll have clothes sent up to your room. And — Belomi is waiting for you, in the mess hall. He wants to speak with you, I believe.”
“You talked to him?”
Lexa inclines her head, almost a nod. “We spoke,” she says. And then: “Go. Don’t make him wait any longer.”
—
He goes to the mess hall, finds Bellamy along with Raven and Bryan, talking quietly. “Hey,” he says. To Bryan: “When did you get back?”
“Took the second Rover,” says Bryan. “Came back with Prosper and Indra. You finish your job?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Feast tonight,” he adds. “Are you staying, or going back to — I guess there’s nothing left of the dropship. For real, this time.”
“Yeah,” says Raven. “Lexa promised to help us rebuild. With Polis’s resources, we can still — have a home.”
“Good,” says Murphy, and he means it, although he knows Lexa’s kindness depends on his good behavior. He feels like he can’t quite look at Bellamy, but he takes Bellamy’s gun from his waistband and hands it over anyway.
“Thanks,” he says, and then. “They assigned me to sleep in your room.”
“Yeah?” Murphy says. “Who?”
“Ryfe,” offers up Bellamy. “Or Lexa. I don’t really know.”
“Well,” he says. “That’s fine, I guess.”
“I don’t know where it is,” admits Bellamy. “Never visited you in Polis before.” Like it’s a personal failing of his.
“I’ll show you,” Murphy tells him. “It’s no problem.”
—
He has a room on the top floor of the tower. The other people on this floor are the Commander, a couple advisors, and most of the Commander’s handmaidens/bodyguards. People that the Commander might need access to quickly and easily. He’s got a big window with late afternoon sunlight streaming in, a table and chair for the rare occasions when he’ll have food sent up, an old wooden dresser where he keeps like, two changes of clothes, and a nightstand that is cluttered with all the little gifts people (but mostly Moss) give him.
It’s a bed made for two people, but he usually luxuriates in sleeping in it by himself. “You don’t mind sharing, right?” he asks.
“Nah,” says Bellamy, and Murphy wonders if he’s thinking about the night spent at the trading post. If he’s hoping it’ll happen again. But he’s staring at something. The ankle cuff still attached to his bedpost.
“Oh,” says Murphy, like. Oh, that old thing. He sits on the bed and begins to unlace his boots. “When they asked me to kill Ontari, I said no at first,” he explains. “I — they convinced me pretty quicky that that wasn’t really an option.” He’s got a box of crackers underneath his bed now, just in case something like that happens again. “And that’s also kind of the reason Clarke and I don’t talk anymore,” he adds. Bellamy just stares at him. It suddenly feels very intimate, very awkward to have Bellamy here in this room with him. “You can put your backpack over there,” he says, pointing to the table and chair, pulling off his other boot.
Bellamy puts his backpack to the side of the table. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“What?” says Murphy, because. What.
“After … You killed Jaha,” he says, hesitant.
He finished the job that Bellamy started. He’s — worried? Concerned? That’s — That’s kind of nice, actually. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he says. It’s almost true. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” says Bellamy, and they share a smile between them. Bellamy takes a step to him, touches his hand.
There’s a knock on the door. Bellamy drops his hand.
It’s one of Lexa’s bodyguards/handmaidens with a bundle of folded clothes. So Lexa doesn’t think that he has clothes nice enough? Good. He doesn’t. He takes the bundle. Soft shirt. Those weird pants that stick to his legs. He’s spent enough time around Bellamy that he doesn’t bother stepping away to change. Bellamy still looks away when he undresses.
He strikes a pose. “How do I look?” he asks.
“What did you do with the necklace I gave you?” asks Bellamy.
Murphy sighs, and drops his hands. Okay. Okay. “Remember when you came to Citikru with Prosper and I was there?”
“Yeah,” says Bellamy, just looking at him.
“Two nights before that, Ontari — Ontari the false Commander — Ontari collared me, and then I killed her. And then I got on a horse and went to Citikru, and they had to cut the collar off with this big pair of boltcutters. They cut the necklace through, but I wore it up till then. I gave it to Clarke to fix, but when she gave it back to me, it felt — too much like posession.”
Bellamy lets out a breath. It’s loud. Murphy looks away.
“I’m not,” he says, a half-explanation. “Blaming you. I just thought it would look nice with the outfit.”
“Oh,” says Murphy. “It’s in here.”
He pulls open the top drawer of his nightstand and takes out the necklace along with his thermos. Sets his thermos on top of the nightstand, hands the necklace to Bellamy.
Bellamy kind of holds on to it and stares at him.
Murphy bows his head, and Bellamy rises and drops it over his head. He touches the shell at the end of it. “Are you sure?” he asks. Unsure.
Murphy presses his hand over Bellamy’s over the shell over his heart. “I don’t mind when it’s you,” he says, and surprises himself with the honesty of it.